


I, Icarus

by laughingcatdog



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, OT3, Other, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), She's A Good Commander But A Disaster Bisexual, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingcatdog/pseuds/laughingcatdog
Summary: It was always going to be more than a shakedown mission, but Shepherd never imagined this. When a ghost from her past comes back not only to haunt her, but to make her a Specter, Shepherd has to wonder if the Universe has it out for her or if she's blessed with the worst type of luck. Somehow, being a good soldier always comes down to fixing someone else's problems. ME1 with an extra side of Normandy OCs, slow burn OT3 Shepherd/Garrus/Tali but otherwise (mostly) canon.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Garrus Vakarian/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

A soldier, an engineer and a chaplain all walked into a bar, and Shepherd didn't need to hear the punchline to smell a prank ready to go south.

The bar was called Purgatory, situated a respectful few levels down from the higher-end shopping levels. It was large and expensive, with a lofty reputation to match the prices; although it was relatively new, Purgatory managed to balance the tightrope of providing legal, high quality intoxicants for almost any species that stepped through the door, which more than made up for the somewhat boring music. Doctor Chakwas had casually dropped the information onto Shepherd's dinner just a few minutes after the trio left the Normandy, giving the Executive Officer enough of a heads-up that she was able to catch sight of them just as they were walking into the establishment.

"Right this way, chaplain," said the soldier, a tall, lean man with a mischievous smile. "That corner over there looks pretty holy, yeah?"

"Shut the f― shut the he―" The willowy engineer shot a sheepish look at the chaplain. "Shit, Jenkins, just stop being an idiot."

The Normandy's new chaplain was younger than anyone had expected, a fresh faced twenty-six year old man from African Union who had gone along easily to Jenkins' suggestion that they all get together on shore leave to "Discuss matters of faith." The engineer, another new transfer on his first shore leave, was looking visibly uncomfortable.

The chaplain, however, seemed to be chewing down his laughter. "My friend," he said to Jenkins, "you are absolutely right. I think that corner really is holy."

Shepherd was no stranger to covert recon; her old psy ops instructors whispered in her ear, guiding her toward the bar with one ear kept on her targets.

"Great. Great! Come on Bolings, don't slouch around back there, let's get that table."

The chaplain turned back to the engineer and smiled broadly. "I would love to hear what you have to say, Specialist Bolings."

"It's not… Just Josh, that's fine."

"Josh." The chaplain nodded. "Let's talk. Let me hear what's on your mind."

Jenkins slapped Bolings on the shoulder. "Don't flake off from me now, man, it's a tradition here! Come on, chaplain, think you're the first one who can beat me in a drinking contest?"

"Muslims don't drink, dumbass!" Bolings stopped short, and turned wide-eyed to the chaplain. "Do they?"

"Uh..."

The uncomfortable silence called her in. Shepherd dropped her casual facade and strode to the corner booth, where she saw the chaplain chewing his lip to try and keep from laughing.

Jenkins noticed first; his face dropped for a moment, then slipped into an innocent smile. "X.O., fancy seeing you here!"

Bolings stood up so fast he jammed his thighs against the table, but still managed to limp to his feet and stand at attention. "Ma'am!"

D. J. Shepherd wasn't especially tall for an Executive Officer, but she could still look down at her soldiers like a mother wolf when she caught scent of stupid ideas. She caught scent of Jenkins a lot. The new engineer hadn't seemed the type to go tricking chaplains for fun, but from the guilty way he couldn't meet her eyes, she'd guess he was just another new transfer that Jenkins had roped into his 'friendly tradition.' And as for Jenkins...

"You having a good time?" Shepherd asked them. Then, to the chaplain, "Everything alright here?"

Jenkins studied the wall, but the chaplain laughed and nodded.

"Everything is well, ma'am. Jenkins was just introducing me to a fascinating Normandy tradition for new crew mates."

Shepherd hmmed. "Is that what he was doing?"

Jenkins studied the wall harder.

"In fact," continued the chaplain, "I believe I have played something similar before, and would be happy to see if this young soldier can handle himself like he says."

That got Jenkins' attention. "No shit, really?"

A wry nod. "Really. There is no reason we cannot change the drink, is there? Something non-alcoholic. We can see who is better at handling something like that."

Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I guess, but… you want to drink with what, water? Milk or something?"

"Neither of those. I have something in mind you might find a bit more… challenging."

Jenkins leaned forward. "Well, consider me intrigued, chaplain."

The chaplain chuckled darkly, and stood. "I'll be back in a moment."

That left the two specialists alone with Shepherd. Bolings still stood at attention, visibly uncomfortable, while Jenkins went for his usual laughter and shrugging. "See, X.O.? Just a little fun, nothing harmful."

Shepherd sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jenkins."

"Hey, the last chaplain drank with me when he got assigned. How could I know this one was different?"

"Jenkins. Listen. I know you like getting comfortable with the new transfers, and you know I've never had a problem with it before. I'm not here to crush anyone's fun, I'm just here to make sure no one catches any misunderstandings."

Jenkins went back to studying the wall. "Look ma'am, I didn't know about it, honest. Just trying to have fun, you know me."

The chaplain returned with shot glasses and a bottle. "Indeed," he said. "I think I'm getting to know you quite a bit better than before, Jenkins."

"Damn, thought you were joking about the drinking contest. What are we having?"

"Patience, my friend." The chaplain put down two glasses between them, opened the bottle, and filled them with a glittering amber liquid. He looked at Jenkins and said, "This is your last chance to back out, friend."

"Pfft. I've never lost a drinking contest on the Normandy, and I'm not about to start now."

The chaplain smiled softly and nodded, picking up his glass. "Then here is a toast, to your continuing championship. May the strength of your stomach serve you well today, inshaallah."

The chaplain watched intently while Jenkins picked up his shot glass, examined it curiously, and then brought it close to sniff what was inside. As soon as he did, the friendly intrigue drained from his face. His eyes widened in horror at the chaplain, who kept that calm smile and didn't say a word.

"No. You're joking. Is this—?" Jenkins stuttered, looking from the chaplain to Bolings to Shepherd. "This. Is this fucking vinegar?"

The chaplain propped his chin in his hand, still with that placid smile. "Tell me when you are ready to begin, my friend."

"You've gotta be joking. X.O., he's joking, right?"

The chaplain inclined his head, "Ah, I see, this seems to be my fault for overestimating how important this tradition is to the Normandy crew. If it's too strong for you, just say so and I'll accept your surrender."

"What." Jenkins looked at Shepherd. "X.O."

Shepherd bit down a smile. "I don't know, Jenkins. It looks like I might have overreacted a bit, coming here to rain on your parade; you always try to make the new guys feel welcome. You've done it with the last two chaplains, haven't you? Wouldn't want Lieutenant Guillomette feeling left out now."

"X.O."

The chaplain laughed. "Here, I'll make this quick." And then he picked up his glass and drank the vinegar in one shot. The others, including Shepherd, found their mouths hanging open in shock.

The chaplain shook his head and cleared his throat, nodding at Jenkins. "What's your move then, friend?"

In pain, in terror, and in vast and drowning regret, Jenkins looked at the glass in his own hand.

"May your God fucking protect me."

And he drank it. It didn't go down pleasantly. He coughed, covered his mouth to keep from spitting it out, forced it down with so much effort that his eyes were watering by the end. He tried and failed to speak, and the chaplain laughed.

"In all my life," the chaplain said, "there have only been two people brave enough to face my challenge. Now there are three." He sighed, and looked reluctantly at the bottle of vinegar. "And now it's the third time I've had to go for round two."

The chaplain poured himself a second shot and swallowed it. This time he coughed a bit, even wiped his eyes, but could nod at the sputtering Jenkins. "Well? Another round?"

Jenkins pounded his fist on the table, shaking his head with a desperate wheeze. No no no no—

"You're fine," the chaplain coughed. "I get it, no more rounds. Just excuse me for a moment?"

"Bolings," Shepherd ordered, "look after Jenkins, if he gets worse get him help."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

The chaplain left the table, and Shepherd followed.

"You alright there, chaplain?" she asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Fine," he responded, voice high and watery. "Really. Nothing to worry. Just going to find Doctor Chakwas. I had an injury a few years back, destroyed my sense of smell and taste, but I'm still going to have bad stomach pain in about half an hour."

"Will Jenkins?"

"Definitely."

"I can call ahead and let her know, don't use your voice more than you have to. Would water help?"

"Milk, please, very much."

"On it. Pretty sure I saw someone drinking a White Russian around here somewhere, they've gotta have at least one kind of terrestrian mammal milk."

"Much obliged, thank you."

"Don't have to thank me chaplain, I just got to see Jenkins drink a shot of damned vinegar. Hey, 'scuse me ma'am?" Shepherd flagged an Asari server walking by and slipped a handful credits to her. "We need some milk, terrestrial, fast as you can."

The Asari raised her eyes at the money and purred, "Just a moment."

"Hope Jenkins didn't get to you," Shepherd said. "He's a good kid, means well. Damn good soldier but prefers to have his head straight up his ass whenever he's off the battlefield, hard for him to even believe there's people in the galaxy who don't drink alcohol. Maybe this little mistake will change that."

The chaplain laughed, then winced. "He brought me here hoping to make me laugh, ma'am. To make everyone laugh. And he succeeded."

"There was a cost."

"Of course. All good―" a string of coughing. "―all good things come with a cost."

"That didn't look like the first time you've pulled that stunt."

"Not the first time someone's put me in that situation."

A glass of milk appeared between them, accompanied by an alluring blue wink.

"Oh," Shepherd said, "That really was just a moment. Thanks."

"Anytime, dear," cooed the Asari, brushing Shepherd's shoulder as she glided on to more customers.

The chaplain drained the milk almost as fast as he had the vinegar, and cleared his throat again with a much more wet, much more comfortable gurgle. He let out a sigh and smiled.

"Thank you, ma'am. Is ma'am the best thing to call you?"

"Just Shepherd works fine."

"Shepherd. Thank you for the milk."

"No, thank you for the show. Do you know how much respect you'll get on this ship, saying you out-drank Jenkins? He'll never live it down."

He shrugged. "I do my part to keep spirits high."

"That you do. You know how to get back to the Normandy from here, right?"

"Probably. Eventually."

"No worries, I'll walk you back."

"I can't ask you to come."

"Chaplain."

"You have your own shore leave to take."

"Lieutenant Guillomette."

He sighed and let his shoulders drop. "I… suppose I could use some help getting back. And please, call me Gill."

"Gill. You going to be able to breathe until we get back?"

"Of course. Though I really should get to Doctor Chakwas; I wasn't joking about the stomach pain that comes with drinking vinegar."

Shepherd chuckled. "I bet not. Let's get going, I've already got a shuttle hailed out by the landing."

They left Purgatory and made their way into an old shuttle that smelled of dead plants and antiseptic; Shepherd sent a call to Jenkins and strongly suggested he make his way back to see Doctor Chakwas. Just after I wash the taste out, X.O., was his reply, and Shepherd left him to it.

"You won't order him back?" asked Guillomette.

"Nah, we've barely got any shore leave as it is. He can deal with the pain on the Alliance's time, he needs to enjoy his own time."

"It'll hurt."

"Probably. He's tough, though."

"Yes, I've seen that much."

"Shame of a first shore leave for you and Bolings, though; we usually get more than just twelve hours."

"No need to explain, Shepherd, I've served on high-profile crews before. I may be new here but I can see how busy things are."

"Don't let that fool you, either. Entire crew changes aren't usual, either; outgoing soldiers and incoming transfers are almost always one by one, never all at once."

"Then it isn't usual for the Normandy to replace half its crew at the same time?"

"Not at all. I don't know what the Captain's prepping the Normandy for, but just hold out on him and I'll make sure you all get some actual shore leave when it's over."

"You all?"

"Hmm?"

"You said 'You all.' Us all. You didn't include yourself."

"Hmm. Guess I didn't." She looked out the window at the thrumming traffic of the Prisidium. "Not much time for it."

"You don't take your own shore leave?"

"Things to do. Anderson's been a ghost since we docked; somebody's got to keep things running while he's gone."

"And after things settle? When you make sure we get some actual shore leave, will you take some of your own."

Shepherd let out a long sigh, and contemplated the traffic outside for a few moments before answering. They were approaching the docking bays; she shifted around, ready to step out toward their ship as soon as they touched down.

"I didn't become the X.O. of the Normandy by caring about my own health. I'll have plenty of time off when I die."


	2. Chapter 2

Most of the new transfers reported in from shore leave at least half an hour early; so many of them were still strangers still feeling out the social atmosphere of the Normandy, and erred on the side of caution by being sharp and formal until encouraged to do otherwise. Shepherd honored them all with relaxed nods, let them stand at ease instead of attention, and let them know she appreciated them being on time. Most left for their duties more relaxed. The only new transfer who came close to being late was Bolings, who had to all but carry Jenkins in bridal-style when the vinegar and alcohol started having a friendly conversation with his stomach. Doctor Chakwas had the discipline not to laugh at the sight, but Shepherd still saw the doctor's little smile as she handed off the ready-made medicine that just happened to be on hand.

Shepherd radioed in, "Shepherd to Anderson."

Immediately, "Anderson here, are all personnel accounted for?

"Roger, all systems are ready on our end to clear the docks; give me a go and I'll put Joker on it."

"Copy that, Joker is good to go. Come to the comms room once we've cleared the Citadel; there's someone there to talk to you."

"Copy that, on my way to Joker."

Joker, as always, was ahead of the game when she came with the update, and was already finalizing the Normandy's departure with dock control. Shepherd waited quietly until he was done, and when the pilot swiveled to say hello she just crossed her arms and Hmmed.

"Something for me?" Joker asked innocently.

She couldn't smile; it would only encourage him. "I'm here to let you know, you're cleared to begin talking to dock control about getting us out of here."

"Oh, is that what it is? Man, I'll get right on that, Commander, right away, just one little second, I'mma get it done right now."

He swiveled back to the pilot's controls, pressed one button, and came back around.

"Done."

"Wow. Fastest departure clearance I've ever seen."

"That's why they put me on the Normandy: I can finish half-hour clearance procedures in two seconds."

"Funny, I didn't read that in your service record when this project started."

"That's because I only do it for people I like."

Shepherd shook her head in exasperation, but couldn't resist a smile.

Joker noticed. "Ah, see, right there, that's why I like you; you laugh at my jokes. The Captain just sighs and looks at me with disappointment."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've never laughed." Shepherd stepped up to the flight console, looking for coordinates. "So. You know where we're going?"

Joker's smile disappeared. "No. I know we're going to have to clear the Citadel before I get our actual destination, though. We got new signal scramblers and everything. Wherever we're going, it's need-to-know until necessary."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow. "A black-box mission? Just to test the stealth systems?"

"I mean, with a Specter involved, is anything not a black-box mission?"

"With an excuse me what involved?"

"Specter." Joker looked over his shoulder. "Oh shit. The Captain didn't tell you?"

Shepherd answered with silence.

"Big turian guy came on here this morning? Black armor, blends into the shadows, can't tell what he's thinking? I mean, not that you can tell what a turian's thinking anyway; those mandibles…"

"How long's he been here? When did he board?"

"Should have been right around when you stepped out for shore leave. By the way, did you actually have any fun this time? Any Asari dancers? Or did you just go shopping for new power couplings and then come straight back to the Normandy?"

"Power couplings. Though I did see something down there I thought you'd like, I thought about buying it for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Prime tickets to the next production of Les Miserables―the one with the all-Elcor cast."

"Don't joke like that."

"Come on, Joker, they say it's an unforgettable 72-hour experience."

"Um, I'm going to be busy that day."

"Dinner is included."

"I'm full."

"You're full next time we get into the Citadel?"

"Yes, I'm... going to be full. That day. And the day after. Actually, I'm probably going to be full for however long they're running shows."

Shepherd sighed. "Guess I'll have to give it to Jenkins, then."

"Yes, you should definitely do that. Come to think of it, if you don't get him those tickets then I will."

Shepherd chuckled and patted the pilot's seat. "Good to see things are handled up here." She turned away and started walking. "Keep me posted if something goes wrong."

"Always do, Commander."

* * *

A Specter. On the Normandy, an Alliance vessel. Even human black-box operations tended to keep aliens out of it whenever possible; was this a Citadel mission, with the Alliance merely offering support? It wasn't impossible, but didn't quite fit; questions ran through Shepherd's mind as she made her way to the comm room, followed by memories. The first and only time she had ever run into a Specter in the flesh, Cerberus had been involved, and that alone was enough to put her on edge.

The comm room doors opened quietly, and the first thing Shepherd noticed upon entering was the lack of any humans at all. Her guard went up, even as she noticed the decidedly non-human figure at the console in the back of the room: over six feet tall, crest of keratinous spines around the head, black armor with a sniper rifle secured across the back. There was no one in the room but the two of them; no backup, and no other exits if she closed the door behind her.

The rush of fight-or-flight passed, and after a moment―Specter; turian; Captain; mission; black-box―she forced herself to relax.

The turian was watching her quietly. He said nothing; just observed, and waited.

Shepherd made her way to the center of the room, looking the turian up and down. His armor and weapon had been the first things to catch her eye, but a second look drew her to his face: a striking contrast of white stripes on black scales, sharp blue eyes that…

… sharp blue eyes that she remembered.

Shepherd blinked in surprise. "You?"

The turian inclined his head. "Lieutenant Commander Shepherd. It's been a long time."

She stood there in silence for a few moments, finding words. "Lyrax. No, that wasn't―that isn't your real name."

"No, it is not." He seemed amused. "My name is Nihlus. I was not expecting you so soon."

Nihlus. The name felt so strange, but Shepherd didn't pause. "Our pilot works fast."

"It seems so." He turned back to the console. She noticed that it was lit up with scenery: plants, buildings, humans. A colony.

"So." The Commander came to stand in front of the console, making a point to put as much distance between herself and the turian as she could without seeming rude. "You're the Specter on board."

"I'm the Specter on board."

She looked at the image before her, noting the many buildings and their age. There was only one colony she knew with such a heavy population.

"This is Eden Prime," Shepherd said.

The turian glanced over. "Yes."

"I assume that's where we're going, then."

He let out a small puff of air; perhaps a chuckle. "Still sharp, I see."

"Yeah. I'm a bad combination of Special Warfare operative, and hating to go into missions with no information. You get good at figuring things out."

"Yes, you do." A small silence, and the Specter turned to face Shepherd head on. "I wonder how you would feel with the power to ask any questions you wanted."

What a strange thing to say. Shepherd looked at him, and couldn't quite figure out how to respond. In the quiet moments that followed, Lyrax―no, Nihlus, damn, it was hard to stop thinking of him as Lyrax the Mercenary―turned back to the console and shut it off. Eden Prime disappeared, leaving the comm room significantly darker.

"I cannot give you answers here, Lieutenant Commander," Nihlus said. "But I can once we've cleared the Serpent Nebula relay. You will not be going into this mission blind. At least, no more blind than I am."

She eyed him warily. "That's good to hear, Specter."

"Until then, let's go to the bridge. I want to see how fast this pilot of yours really works."

"Sure thing. Joker loves having foreign operatives look over his shoulder while he's flying."

He chuckled again. "Still with the sarcasm."

Shepherd didn't answer.

They made their way back to the bridge just in time to catch Joker bringing the ship toward the mass relay. In the co-pilot's seat sat one of the other new transfers: the biotic ground trooper, what was his name? Alenko, Kaidan. One of the quieter ones.

"Look pretty, Joker," Shepherd barked. "You have an audience."

"Aw, what the―I mean, yeah, sure, hello sir. Uh, welcome to the Normandy. Glad to have you aboard, sir."

"Turians can smell lies," Nihlus said, leaning between the two pilots to gaze at the relay looming in front of them. "Your Lieutenant Commander has told me you can make a relay jump with less than 3,000 kilometers of drift."

Shepherd shot a glare at the Specter. Still a cheeky bastard, I see.

"She told you what? Commander, are you selling me short in front of a Specter?" He opened the ship's intercom and addressed the crew; "The Serpent relay is in range, initiating transmission sequence."

Nihlus cocked his head. "You can do better? 2,000 kilometers, then."

"Oh yeah, coming right up, sir. We are connected, calculating transit mass and destination."

Shepherd braced a little more firmly against the wall. Not that Joker was ever a rough flyer, but relay jumps weren't exactly smooth.

"The relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector. All stations secure for transit." He gave the crew a moment for final adjustments. "The board is green. Approach run has begun."

The relay awoke before them, bleeding light into the darkness of space.

"Hitting the relay in 3… 2… 1…"

Light arced from the relay and caught the ship, and for a moment the weight of Shepherd's entire body disappeared. She was floating, inhuman, immortal, and for a few seconds she felt space and time folding in front of them, and then―then they were real again, leaving the jump from a relay on a different side of the galaxy. She exhaled, let her shoulders drop and her legs readjust to the return of artificial gravity.

Joker's fingers danced over the console. "Thrusters, check. Navigation, check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. And our drift…" He gave Nihlus that cocky smile that only the Alliance's best pilot was allowed to have. "Just under 1,500K."

"1,500 is good," Nihlus said. "Your Captain will be pleased." And without so much as a nod, the Specter turned around and left.

It seemed Joker was expecting more; he frowned at the turian's retreating back, waiting long enough for him to be out of earshot before saying, "I hate that guy."

Alenko looked over. "What, because he gave you a compliment?"

"That wasn't a compliment, Alenko; did you see what I just did? You hit the other side of a relay with less than 3,000K drift, that's good. 1,500K, from halfway across the galaxy? That's incredible. Besides, he's a Specter, and that just means trouble; he's not here to check out the new stealth systems, that's for sure. A Specter means wherever we're going, it's gotta be way bigger than a shakedown missioin."

Alenko's brow knit. "Even if that's true, it's not like he made everything big just by coming along. And if it is big, better to have him than not have him. The Council funded half this ship, they have a right to put someone on it."

Shepherd regarded Alenko for a moment, and decided to review his file when she got the chance. He seemed like a level-headed soldier. She liked level-headed soldiers.

The intercom beeped, and Anderson barked, "Joker! Status report."

Joker sat up a bit straighter. "Just cleared the mass relay, Captain. Stealth systems engaged, everything looks solid."

"Good. Find a comm buoy and link us into the network. We're heading to Eden Prime, and I want mission reports relayed back to Alliance brass before we get there."

"Aye aye, Captain. And, maybe brace yourself, sir; I think Nihlus is headed your way."

"He's already here, Lieutenant," snapped the Captain. "Tell Commander Shepherd to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing."

The comm cut to silence. Joker sighed, and nodded over his shoulder. "You get that, Commander?"

"I still have ears, Joker. On my way."

The metal floor echoed under her feet, almost enough to drown out Joker whispering to Alenko: "Is it me or is the Captain always a little pissed?"

Alenko didn't bother whispering. "Only when he's talking to you."

One of the nicer things about flying from place to place was that almost all of the crew was busy, and Shepherd didn't have to respond to a salute every three steps. There were the sentries at the doors, but that was it, and most of them had been around long enough to know how much Shepherd hated Alliance formalities; only one of them was new enough to start raising his hand, and a quick "Relax, soldier," stopped him before it could finish.

The comm room was again empty save for Nihlus, who stood at the console with Eden Prime on display. He looked over his shoulder when Shepherd entered, and turned when she approached.

"Lieutenant Commander. I was hoping you'd get here first."

"Where's Captain Anderson?"

"Not here. Yet." He looked back at the display. "I'm curious about this Eden Prime of yours. I've heard it's a beautiful place."

Shepherd moved close enough to get a better view of the display, but not close enough for either of their personal spaces to actually touch. "They say it's a paradise."

"Yes, I've heard it called that. 'Eden Prime,' named after a mythical human paradise, is that true?"

"Yeah. Someone thought it was a fitting name."

"I agree with that person." Nihlus leaned against the console and tilted his head, watching her with an unreadable expression. "After all, hasn't this come to be the greatest symbol of human expansion? Your people consider it your most successful 'paradise,' not just that you've created, but that you've defended successfully since its founding. Serene. Industrious. Safe." He looked back to the display. "But I wonder, how safe is it really?"

Shepherd narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

Calmly, "Your people are still newcomers to this galaxy, Lieutenant Commander. It is large, and it is dangerous. The Alliance asks for much, but is it truly ready for this?"

Ready for what? Shepherd didn't ask. "You said I wouldn't be going into this blind."

From behind them, "I think it's time to cut with the secrets, and tell Shepherd what's really going on."

Shepherd jumped; she hadn't heard the door open, or the Captain enter. Anderson's mouth was set in a tight line, his shoulders drawn back and hands clenched at his side. He was tense, more so than usual, and it made Shepherd tense, too.

Nihlus inclined his head. "Very well. This mission is far more than a simple shakedown."

Shepherd sighed. "I'll skip the joke about how obvious that was." To Anderson, "What's going on?"

"We're running a covert pick-up mission on Eden Prime," the Captain answered. "That's why we've spent so much time testing the stealth systems."

Shepherd nodded. "Roger. Payload?"

"An archeological artifact. There's Prothean ruins down there, and they have something big."

"Ah." She looked at Nihlus. "The Council wants it."

"In conjunction with the Alliance," Nihlus reassured her. "We do not keep discoveries away from a species simply because they are young."

"This is big," continued Anderson. "You know what happened to human technology the last time we found Prothean ruins. But Eden Prime doesn't have the infrastructure to study something like this; we're taking it back to the Citadel, so all species can study it."

"And anything of this magnitude involves all species," Nihlus added. "The Council wants to be sure nothing interferes with this mission."

Shepherd nodded. "Well. Having a Specter help out on a mission certainly couldn't hurt."

"Not just on this mission," Nihlus said. "I'm here for more than that."

The turian took one long step forward, straight into Shepherd's personal space. His eyes locked on to hers, and her spine stiffened; if Anderson hadn't been there, she would have stepped back.

"He wants to see you in action, Commander," Anderson explained. "This mission is an evaluation."

Shepherd controlled her facial expression, holding back the confused frown pulling at her lips, and for a moment Nihlus' eyes changed; she could see a flash of curiosity, the trace of a dare, egging her to ask the question that would break open their little secret. After everything, she could still read more of his facial expressions than he liked to believe; if he thought she was actually going to ask that question, Shepherd felt almost offended.

"The Alliance has been wanting this for a long time," Anderson pressed on, thankfully unaware of tension before him. "They want a larger role for humanity. They want a stronger position with the Council, they want more influence with interstellar policy, and bringing a human into the ranks of the Specters will bring that reality closer than anything we've done before."

That shocked her enough to break the mask of calmness; her eyes widened, and she looked at Anderson in disbelief. "A human Specter? You're not saying…"

"I've studied what happened on Akuze," Nihlus said. "Your survival was… miraculous. I would have said impossible, if you were not standing here. That's why I put your name forward as a candidate for the Specters."

Akuze. The word cut her like a knife, and kept stinging with all the questions that followed. Nihlus―Lyrax―advocating for her as a Specter, and using Akuze of all things it back it up; she had a hundred questions for him, and none of them could be asked here.

Nihlus stepped out of her personal space, and Shepherd let out a soft breath of relief. She turned to Anderson. "The Alliance is on board with this?"

"A hundred percent," he answered. "This is not an opportunity they plan on wasting. The Alliance is counting on you, Commander."

"Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together," said Nihlus. "I need to see your strengths and weaknesses for myself. You will be in charge of the ground team securing the beacon. I will be there as an observer."

Shepherd was silent for a few moments. It seemed strange to say thank you, so she just said, "Alright."

That was enough to satisfy them both.

"It's a lot to take in, I know," Anderson said. "ETA is half an hour. Take the time to think, get your squad ready and be at the shuttle when it's time. Dismissed."

Shepherd saluted. "Aye aye, sir."

Anderson saluted back, and Shepherd began walking. She had to make an effort to keep herself calm and collected, at least on the outside; her stomach knotted and her mind raced. She left the comm room with far more questions than she had upon entering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while there's a few lines of dialogue pulled straight from the game, the majority of it is rewritten, with some moved around and some extra plot elements regarding Nihlus. We've all played the game, I'd rather not make it exactly the same. I don't plan on going full AU, but like with the crew, I like filling in empty spots in a story-and Shepherd's backstory is a big ol' gap in the game aside from a few key points; I like the idea of her and Nihlus having met before the start of the game, and of her just having a history that comes back to affect her here and there.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in months, getting back into it. Mass Effect novelization with heavy OCs on the side, mostly Normandy crew that felt a bit too empty in the game. Also I'm always thirsty for extra worldbuilding. FemShep/Garrus/Tali, eventually. Felt kinda weird not seeing a chaplain/counselor/mental health expert on any Alliance Normandy crews. I'm guessing 2183 chaplains would probably have less of a religious role than a mental health one, but Ashley Williams indicates that religion is not uncommon in humans, so probably a very flexible, psychology- and therapy-based role with a wide field of study to make sure all religious personnel get their needs met regardless of faith.


End file.
